Balance of Echoes
by Draic Kin
Summary: The confrontation between the Exile and Darth Nihilus, as I originally imagined it to be. AU


Disclaimer: I do not own a single piece of this. They belong to Bioware and Lucas Arts

AN: I was inspired to write this after TSL because I had been disappointed with the final battle with Nihilus, and decided that I could create a much better version of the confrontation. So, enjoy and please tell me what you think.

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Balance of Echoes

As soon as I set foot upon this dead ship, I felt him. No, before that even, I felt the black tendrils of power that connected him with his thralls aboard the Citadel station. Even now, the very of essence of life is drawn to him, like a black hole eagerly consuming the universe and still hungry for more. He doesn't touch me though, he can't and I won't allow him to consume any other for much longer.

The journey to the bridge is filled with the expected dangers, eager slaves throwing themselves at me, in the hopes of destroying me and pleasing the dark god they serve. He is apathetic to their sacrifices however, caring little for the mortals in his service. They are but tools to him, and once they have served their purpose, they too will be consumed. Even as the last of the Dark Jedi fall to my blade, he is focused on the planet, eager to once again attempt to satiate his hunger.

Only when I walk into the bridge, does he bother to acknowledge my presence in any way. His back is to me, his death mask still hungrily gazing at Telos, his black robes making him resemble a shadow given substance. He is aware of me now, and within the Force, I can feel the black tendrils of his power being guided towards me. As expected, when they reached me, nothing happened. His touch slipped over me like water upon rock, washing me with his power, but doing no real damage. I can feel the coldness however, the emptiness of his touch, another reminder of what my old student had become. I continued my trek to his vantage point on the bridge

My eyes wander for a moment, examining the CIC as a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I remember during the war when I commanded ships like this. Despite the layer of darkness that seemed to permeate the entirety of the ship, I could still see the constant bustle of soldiers and techs. My memory taking hold of me, I saw my padawan and I standing together, united in our efforts against the Mandalorians. With a mixture of amusement and loss, I remembered how I, a fairly young Jedi, took him as my student, a young man who with only a few years left until he would become a knight. I took him because his master had been mine, a man who taught me what it meant, truly meant, to be a Jedi, and who had loved me as a daughter. When he died, quietly in his sleep, I took his padawan as my own. It was awkward at first, but we were unified in our loss, and like my master had been our father in life, we became brother and sister in his death.

When the Mandalorians came, and Revan made the call to war, his safety was my only cause for hesitation. But when he looked at me, as we both listened to Revan make his case before the Jedi, I could see it in his eyes, and once again when we heard of the fires of wars set to Cathar, Duro, and numerous other worlds, I saw in my padawans eyes the desire to end it all, to fulfill our duty as Jedi. So we went together, and along with our fellow outcasts, set out to end the Mandalorian Crusade with one of our own. That is, until Malachor.

Before we made the jump to that place, we agreed to go on different ships, for the purpose of coordinating our attacks more effectively. It was such a simple decision, one of many I made that day, but it stabs at my heart just the same. When the battle had reached its apex, the Madalorians making a final standstill, and our forces where at the breaking point. I reached for my apprentice through the Force, but I could feel nothing through the Haze of war and death. I think my decision to use the generator harmed me more than the actual activation of the weapon, for all I could feel within myself as I gave Bao-Dur the order was that hateful word.

"Betrayal"

Now, after all these years I stand in front of my student and I wonder out of the two of us, who deserves damnation. The monster, or the one who created him? I guess we were about to find out.

Finally he deigns to look at me, to examine the insect that dared enter the heart of the darkness. I suspect that even without Force sensitivity, you could sense the equilibrium forming between us, between the Light and the Darkness. Looking into the eyes behind the mask, I could see, through the Force, or my own soul, what had happened to him. How his ship had been pulled in by the Mass Shadow Generator, how he had felt the Force dying around him, how everything descended into nothing but pain, fire, and darkness. My padawan died there, on Malachor, and for three days he decayed, until nothing of who he once was remained. Then, by the will of the Force, Traya, or Malachor itself, his eyes opened, but were empty. Only hunger remained.

What stands before me now is less of a person, and more of an elemental force, the Dark side given flesh and blood and bone. The black orbs that stare at me now possess nothing of the warm-hearted student who was a much better Jedi than I could ever be. The only thing that remained was Darth Nihilus, Lord of Hunger, much more than a wound in the Force, but as I felt that currents of destiny telling me what would happen if Nihilus were to live beyond this confrontation, but the destroyer of all life. So, in order to save lives, I would once again have to end a life. An irony that has always, especially recently, gripped my heart within a gauntlet of barbed wire.

I say nothing to him, as I remove my lightsaber, no dramatic challenge or threat. Unlike Revan, I was never one for words or speeches. All that I did, was draw my weapon in manner that my apprentice would recognize, in the hopes that perhaps I could coax him out of the demonic shadow that stood before me. Nothing happened, my brother did not materialize. The only motion he made, was a simple rising of his black hand.

It was a funny in a way, like an addict who has reached into a spice container and finds the drug strangely unattainable, and is frustrated to the point of madness. All right, maybe that isn't funny, but for a moment that was what his reaction was like. Then came the anger, the hate, the pure malevolence that made the Sith Lord once again appear more like an embodiment of darkness and shadow.

I ignited my lightsaber, the silver blade a comfortable weight in my hands as I waited my foe to do the same. For a moment he does nothing, and for an absurd moment, I wonder if he even possessed a lightsaber. But that moment swiftly ended when he removed the weapon from his robes, its crimson blade deepening the shadows around him. For a moment nothing happened, our blades between us, and for what could have been a thousand years, we studied each other, my eyes full of pity, his with hate. Then, without any warning, I attacked.

For an eternity our blades danced against each other, a deadly ballet of speed and strength as we attempted to overcome each other in a contest of skill. I cannot describe to you the battle that was fought, except that it was unlike any other duel I had participated in before. I fought not only against Nihilus' individual strength but the combined essence of every Jedi's power he had ever stolen. No matter how much I threw at him, he could summon an endless reserve of energy to counter against me. For a moment it seemed, that despite everything, Nihilus would succeed.

But I remembered something. Everything I have ever done, all the power I had ever accumulated, every victory I had ever achieved, I had done so with the help of others. Nihilus stole the power of innocents in his hunger, while my friends shared theirs with me. Well, then I would have to ask them one more time.

I opened myself to the Force, strengthening the connections I had with my allies, and asked them for their aid. They willingly gave it, and I could feel their power synchronize with my own, and I could feel myself becoming stronger than I had ever been.

Nihilus hesitated at the sight of me, as though my presence had blinded him. Within the Force, I must have appeared to him as a shining beacon, a luminescence that briefly overwhelmed his darkness. For a moment, he could do nothing but study me, either in fear or loathing, I could not say.

Then, without warning, his hand extended again, and I felt the dark tendrils of his power latching on to my own, trying to once again consume what did not belong to him. For a moment there was a tug of war between us, our wills struggling to dominate the other. For a moment, it appeared that he would succeed, and take the very essence of my friends for his own. I would not, could not allow that to happen.

Reaching into the very essence of both the Force, and my own inner strength, I did something I had never done before, and I'm unsure I could ever do again. White lightning suddenly erupted from my fingers, the energy streaking toward Nihilus in a deadly cascade of power. Strangely enough, it was not the Dark side but the Light that gave me the power to do this. Nihilus answered with his own variety, the dark side coalescing around him as he used it against me.

It was like observing the heart of a thunderstorm, the sound deafening, and the light blinding. We directed all our power against each other, Sith and Jedi, a collision of power unlike any other before or since. I looked at Nihilus, and to me he seemed to grow smaller with every passing moment, his stolen power dwindling, while the power given to me seemed endless, my allies fueling my strength with their own.

Then, without warning, Nihilus weakened and my power struck him. White energy forcibly shunted the darkness from him, like a purifying fire. Then, emitting a final desperate roar, he collapsed on the ground, defeated.

For a moment, time stood still, then I walked over to the fallen Sith Lord. Carefully, I turned him over, and slowly removed the pale mask from his face. An even paler face greeted from behind the white mask, yet as painfully familiar as I could possibly imagine. For a moment, we stared at each other, his black eyes studying mine, when his eyes cleared and a shadow of smile graced his face.

"Thank you…"

The eyes, shifted into their original warm blue, and closed for the last time.

I barely felt the tears as they streamed down my face, feeling bittersweet mix of grief and happiness at my padawan's escape into death. I felt his spirit leave, briefly embracing me before it integrated into the ocean that is the Force. I stared at the mask that belonged to Nihilus and crushed it, reducing it to dust. Then with one final look toward the empty shell that had once been my student, my friend, brother in spirit, and my greatest enemy, I walked away.


End file.
